


Library Etiquette

by pinkkoala321



Series: Scholarly Smut [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Elder Scrolls Online: Greymoor, F/M, Mild Smut, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, Some Plot, Vaginal Sex, lightly edited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28632168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkkoala321/pseuds/pinkkoala321
Summary: “I know that look. If you spend all this time worrying, the wait will only be excruciating.”Astrari scowled at Fennorian. “What do you propose I do then?”He took a step forward. “I could distract you.”In which Fennorian and Astrari are trapped in a library and need to find a way to pass the time.
Relationships: Fennorian (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Fennorian/Vestige (Elder Scrolls)
Series: Scholarly Smut [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021318
Kudos: 26





	Library Etiquette

**Author's Note:**

> This has been half-written in my drafts for a while now, so I decided to finish it and actually post it. The plot is literally just there for my convenience, so no need to read too much into it.

It had been a task—truly—to sneak into the Library of Vivec, but a necessary one all the same. Despite Astrari’s protests, Fennorian hadn’t been willing to risk being turned away. Not when they’d scoured countless other libraries in search of this book and found nothing.

She couldn’t blame him, she supposed, when it mattered so much to him. And sneaking into a library . . . It wasn’t the worst thing she had done. It would not keep her awake at night or fill her with the bitter cold of regret, as other things, other moments, had.

And while he was a vampire—stronger, surely, than any of the guards in the city—Astrari was hesitant and a little afraid to let him do this alone. After everything they’d been through, both in Solitude and in the following months, she couldn’t let him.

Fennorian raised his flickering candle, casting a dim orange glow on the hundreds of books, and said, “Like finding a needle in a haystack.”

A needle in a haystack indeed. Astrari could already feel the frustration building in the pit of her stomach, just waiting to slip its leash. “We can’t possibly look through all these books. We have a few hours, at best.”

They had spent the past couple nights observing the guards’ rotations and seeing if any entered the library itself. Throughout the night, they left it empty. It had been task all its own just to get rid of the assistants and the librarian for the night, but not impossible.

Fennorian grinned at her, the shadows on his face dancing in the firelight. “We don’t have to look through all of them, darling,” he said, pulling a vial from his pocket. It glowed a radiant white in the dark. “I spent days making it. Nearly drove me mad,” he chuckled. “But if it works, we should be more than capable of finding it quickly and efficiently.”

Astrari was skeptical. The last time Fennorian had tried to find a shortcut, it had ended horribly. She said as much, but he merely clicked his tongue and uncorked the vial. It smelled . . . harsh, like too-strong sunlight—something untouchable, but still undeniably _real_.

He pulled out a piece of paper. “This is a page from the same book we’re looking for. If it’s here, this will find it.” The liquid poured from the vial like starlight, shimmering through the air before falling onto the page. It glowed once and stilled.

Astrari crossed her arms. “Incredible,” she said, letting no small amount of sarcasm drip from the word. “But how will that find the book?”

As if the page were a bird yearning to be set free, Fennorian tossed it into the air. It floated, floated, floated, as if it would touch the floor, and then it was moving, drifting through the air on a phantom breeze. Astrari could practically hear him saying, ‘I told you so,’ but before he could, she took off after the paper.

They followed it silently through the endless lines of bookshelves, not bothering to even glance at anything else. Though the candle still burned, Astrari was certain they could see without it. Their eyes—so used to the dark and gloom—would have no trouble here.

Eventually they came to a stop. The paper fluttered to the floor, right before another door. “A closet, perhaps?” Fennorian said. Astrari tried the handle—locked. Not surprising, if the book they were looking for was inside. She hardly doubted Vivec or any of the librarians of his library would be oblivious to its importance.

Still, touching the door felt . . . _wrong_.

Fennorian felt it, too, if his barely contained shudder was any sign. “Magic,” he said, and Astrari didn’t even bother with the lock picks.

“How do we get in?”

He frowned. “If I knew exactly what spell it was . . .” But he didn’t. For all their planning, neither of them had considered this. Even if they had accounted for a magical seal, there would be no way of knowing how to break it.

“So that’s it? We return to Ravenwatch Castle empty-handed?”

Fennorian’s eyes grew hard, determined. “No. I’ll break the seal.” He braced a hand on the door, gritting his teeth. As if through sheer force of will, or luck, she heard the faint click.

The door swung open of its own accord, and Fennorian slumped against the doorjamb, panting. Astrari placed a hand on his shoulder. “How?”

He looked up at her. “If I told you, it would mean I knew.”

Luck, because Astrari couldn’t believe it herself. She’d come across many enchantments and wards more difficult to break than this. If she was being honest, she was a bit disappointed in Vivec, in his librarians. Child’s play.

She stepped through the open doorway. Fennorian’s soft footsteps followed close behind her.

The room was small and filled with a few dusty bookshelves and various knickknacks. It would be cramped if not for the skylight high above. The paper remained lifeless, unmoving. “That’s it? It won’t find the book?”

“I hadn’t accounted for a locked door,” he said, rubbing his neck. “The spell is finnicky. If I’d known, I would have made a second vial.”

An annoying setback, but better than before. It would be easier to find the book in here, where there were far fewer bookshelves lining the walls. Astrari ran a finger over the worn spines, reading each title. “What’s it about?”

“It’s an old necromancer’s journal.” He peered at the books on another shelf. How much control did it take, she wondered, not to look at them all? “It shouldn’t have a title. From what I gathered while studying the page, it’s probably leather-bound. Definitely old.”

An old leather-bound journal. How Fennorian had figured that out, she didn’t know. A necromancer’s journal. Astrari wondered if it would still carry that mark, if someone had stamped it into the very pages. That dark power.

She felt it then, a soft thrum in her blood. _Yes_ , it seemed to whisper, curling around her like tendrils of dark smoke. _Come see me. Come feel that power._ Perhaps it was the darkness in her own blood, her own soul.

Like called to like.

It sat on the bottom of the far shelf. At first glance, it was nothing. Just a worn journal. But she could feel it and knew with a cold certainty that it was the book they’d been searching for.

Her fingers grazed the spine, and Astrari swore she heard a whispery purr. _Come to steal me away?_

The door slammed shut behind them, locking them in. Fennorian cursed and pressed his hands to the door, only to recoil. “What—” Astrari started.

“How stupid could I have been,” Fennorian hissed, struggling to turn the handle. “I knew it opened too easily.”

Because it had been part of the spell. Why waste time deterring thieves when it was possible to catch them instead? Astrari blanched. If they were ordinary thieves, they might survive being caught. A night spent in a cell would be nothing compared to what they would face when the guards saw them.

It was impossible to mistake their ashen, bloodless faces and bright red eyes for anything else. Anything other than something monstrous.

Fennorian looked back at her, and his face softened. “It’ll be fine,” he said. But the door had been sealed shut, and they were _trapped_ —

The skylight.

Astrari looked up. It would be a climb—a difficult one. As if he had read her mind, Fennorian took the journal from her hands and slipped it into his jacket pocket. “Too easy to spot us,” he said. “But if the guards stay true to routine, the roof will remain unwatched for about ten minutes come dawn.”

“You want to wait until dawn to—”

“Yes.” His fingers trailed down the side of her face. “I know you don’t like this—being trapped. I don’t either. But we risk getting caught if we leave now.”

He had a point. Astrari knew he did. But, “What if they sealed the skylight too?”

Fennorian frowned. “A possibility,” he said, “but not a likely one.” He looked up. “Few could make that climb. I doubt they were counting on a couple of vampires when they warded this place.”

“And if they were?”

“Then I suppose there’s nothing to be done.”

Astrari hated that. She hated even more that he was right. If they couldn’t escape out the skylight come dawn . . . It was their only chance.

She looked up at the night sky. Dawn was still a couple hours away.

“I know that look. If you spend all this time worrying, the wait will only be excruciating.”

Astrari scowled at Fennorian. “What do you propose I do then?”

He took a step forward. “I could distract you.”

She swallowed, and she knew he heard it. The grin on his face was absolutely irritating, but despite herself, she allowed a small smile to slip free. “And how, _darling_ ,” she purred, imitating the way he so often spoke to her, “do you plan to do that?”

His eyes lit up—in surprise, delight—as if he hadn’t quite believed she would take the bait. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her cheek, her jaw, her neck. Astrari trembled beneath his touch.

“That’s not much of an answer,” she breathed and scowled at the way it sounded, so different from the voice in her head.  
“I think it answers plenty.”

Astrari stepped back, only to be stopped by a bookshelf.

Fennorian ran a finger lightly over the straps of her leathers. And—damn her—she _whimpered_. His eyes grew hungry, more focused than bloodlust. “Do you remember the way you teased me back in Bangkorai?”

She swallowed and shook her head. Even though she very much _did_ remember. If not for Gwendis calling them back to Rivenspire so soon, Fennorian might have seen the black lacy things she had been wearing underneath that tight-fitting dress.

He growled, and that predatory sound went straight to her core. “Liar,” he said, and kissed her. Hard.

Her hands banded around his neck, and she might have made a mental note to wear those lacy things for him when they returned, if not for the way he stroked a finger down her side, just hard enough to tease.

No. There would be none of that.

Astrari grabbed his wrist and flipped them, so that it was him pressed against the bookshelf. His nostrils flared, eyes going wide. She gave him a sultry smile, one that took great effort when her knees were threatening to give out beneath her, all while her hands worked to undo the fastenings of his pants.

“Astrari—”

“What? Don’t enjoy being pushed around?”

He smiled a crooked smile, one she hardly ever saw him give. “I actually rather do enjoy it. When it’s you doing the pushing, that is.”

She kissed him as she let his pants fall to the floor. His hands reached to undo her own, but she stopped him. “Always doing things for me,” she tutted, even though the thought of all he did for her made her heart swell. “This time _I’m_ doing something.”

With the way his breath hitched as she sunk to her knees, Astrari wasn’t certain if he would last long enough for her to do anything at all. She grinned up at him, suddenly nervous despite herself. Not that she’d never done it before, but . . .

“Can you close your eyes?”

His brows knitted together. “You don’t have to, darling—"

“I want to.” She really did. “But it’s been awhile and I don’t think I—” She felt stupid saying it, that she didn’t look all too pretty while doing it, not that anyone looked all too pretty with a cock in their mouth, but it was something she clung to.

Wordlessly, he closed his eyes and covered them with a hand. “Extra assurance,” he said, the corners of his mouth hitching up. “And don’t worry. I won’t peek.”  
It took a few moments to reorient herself. She’d never done it with Fenn—for Fenn—and she had no idea what he liked, what he didn’t like, but she was already on her knees before him.

She couldn’t understand why she was so _nervous_. The last time she’d been nervous had been her first time, which had been a few years ago at least.  
“Astrari, if you—”

He yelped—actually _yelped_ —when she took him into her mouth, effectively shutting him up. It sent a thrill through her she felt only with him, only when she was pleasing him.

It had been awhile. She had forgotten how difficult it was to breathe, to swallow, to do anything other than bob her head and listen to the uneven rasp of his breath. She slipped a hand beneath his shirt, tracing the grooves of his spine with her nail, humming at the soft, breathy sounds that spilled from his mouth.  
He was coming undone. Because of her.

His free hand tangled in her hair, and Astrari almost purred at the way his nails scratched across her scalp. “Astrari . . .” She swirled her tongue around his tip. He groaned. “I can’t . . . Can you just . . .”

Strange for her to find him speechless. She was so used to him babbling on for hours. But it pleased her to no end that she could rob him of his voice and any coherent thought.

She stood up, and Fennorian whimpered at the loss of her, but then she was kissing him, her lips wet with spit and pre-cum.

Gods, she could feel him hard against stomach, and it filled her with an overwhelming need. “Fenn,” she breathed.

It took great effort on both their parts to undo the fastenings of her pants and get them out of the way.

He slid into her, slow and careful. She bared her teeth and growled. There were times for slow and careful. Gods only knew there were nights when she could think of no better way to end it.

But this was not one of those nights.

And Fenn—he obliged her. She wondered in some distant part of herself, if she could even _survive_ him if she were still human. Because she was whining and digging her nails into his hips and urging him to go _faster_ and _harder_.

She was barreling toward that end, careening over it. Her fingers clenched around his shoulders so hard they would’ve broken had he been human—or, rather, Altmer.

He didn’t falter, not as he fucked her through her climax and into his own. His teeth pierced the sensitive skin of neck, and she cried out. The smell of blood—her blood—lighting whatever lingering scraps of desire remained.

She would have acted it on it if not for the sudden exhaustion that washed over her, if not for the lightening sky above them. Dawn was not far off.

Astrari looked up. “We’ll leave soon,” she said, panting.

Fennorian buried his head in the crook of her neck. “Can you even climb right now?” he laughed.

“Can you?”

His silence was answer enough. Astrari merely clicked her tongue. “There’s still some time. It might do us good to sit down and catch our breath.” She felt his grin against her skin and rolled her eyes, refraining from telling him _he_ was more breathless than she was.

As they settled against a bookshelf, Astrari realized her worries were still there, but they were so much smaller. She looked up at Fenn and kissed his cheek, so sweet compared to what they’d been doing just moments before.

He smiled. “What was that for?”

“I think I’ll wear that dress for you when we get back to Rivenspire,” she said, and knew he knew exactly what dress she was talking about. Delight sparked in his eyes. “And I’ll be wearing those scraps of lace underneath it.”

Fennorian huffed a laugh. “If you keep it up, darling, we’ll never get out of here.”

"Then I suppose there's nothing to be done about it."


End file.
